


Amongst*Stars

by Cosmos Mirror (4ever_Rewritten)



Series: A Thousand Different Lives [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: And Gamora plotting, But it's cute and its fun, Drax and Rocket would totally need a babysitter...just don't tell them that, Drax is adorable, F/M, Finally, I Don't Even Know, I've been writing for over ten years and this is my first try at this kind of story, Kind of fun, Now with angst!, Okay maybe not adorable but still, Plus gratuitous amount of alcohol is mentioned, You may be sweet and light, and the cliche bar brawl, but damn, don't piss you off!, more to come - Freeform, pretty much fluff, the good stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2524694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/4ever_Rewritten/pseuds/Cosmos%20Mirror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another one of those Reader!stories that seem to be cropping up lately. But hopefully tastefully done. </p><p>Little to no plot is involved in these ten vaguely connected chapters. Background that won't spoil: You're thrown into more-or-less living with these larger than life heroes. Things get funny, and tense, and weird. Peter's a dork, Gamora's just thankful for a female cohort, Rocket's still not sure, Groot is...Groot, and Drax seems a bit more interested than you thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> _All this time I was finding myself_  
>  And I didn't know I was lost
> 
> _____________________
> 
> You may note this is a fair bit longer than the original. I felt it had been too fragmented and wanted to flesh it out a bit. I hope you still enjoy!

There was something different about being in a space ship. 

Well, okay. There was a lot of differences between being on Earth(or any planet for that matter) and the confines of the not-quite small spaceship named ‘The Milano.’ Like gravity, for instance. It was hard to describe, but you were convinced there was something...off about it. 

But that was something you could adjust to. In fact, after a few days you could almost ignore it. What was bothering you as you laid in the small barren room was the silence. Never before had the term ‘deafening silence’ had been more applicable. The void of nothingness echoed in your head, about ready to drive you insane. 

As the clock in the wall showed 0200 XST (whatever that was) you gave up on sleep and carefully left your room. A few days had been enough to get somewhat familiarized with the layout, but with everything dark and silent you decided the safest course was a small trip to the kitchen. It was the closest, and also the place you felt more comfortable. 

Except where you thought everyone else was sleeping, as soon as you touched the light switch, you found out otherwise. A small scream escaped as you jumped, while Drax merely graced you with a faint look of interest before returning to his card game. 

Of all of the five, he was the one the that terrified you the most. All of them were scary in their own right, but only when entangled with something bad, say for instance those that had kidnapped you.Otherwise, they were either rather normal (Gamora), adorkable (Peter), or strangely cute (Rocket and Groot). But not Drax. He was intimidating whether inside of battle, cackling insanely, or...sitting at the table playing cards. 

“You should be asleep.”

You jumped at the words, and felt a little self conscious as you wavered in the doorway “Can’t sleep,” you answered after a moment. “I thought maybe if I ate something it would help."

There was a slightly thoughtful 'hmm' before he returned to his game. Figuring that was about as much as an invite you were going to get, you grabbed a slice of the leftover cake Peter of all people made before hesitating again, part of you wanted to simply retreat back to your room while that stubborn code of manners said that it wouldn't be proper. So instead, you hesitantly made towards the table, and took a seat across from Drax. 

You swore you meant to keep your eyes firmly focused on the cake, but found yourself a few minutes later entranced by him. The thoughtful expression on his face, how small the cards seemed in his hands, and of course, the jarring red tattoos across nearly every inch of strangely colored skin. And the well-defined muscles that twitched with subtle movement. It wasn’t until his eyes caught yours that you realized what you had been doing. Your face flushed as you focused your attention elsewhere, which ended up the cards in his hands. 

"So, um, w-what game are you playing?" You stammered nervously. It started off as a simple question, but about thirty minutes later the slice of cake had been all but forgotten, and thoughts of sleep had vanished. As it turned out, the cards weren’t unlike the set the old ladies back home would play bridge with. Except instead of hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs; strange swirls in four different colors marked the otherwise bland cards. Your head buzzed from a drink whose name you couldn’t remember but had tasted too good to resist when Drax had offered, and had soothed all your frazzled nerves. To the point you had relaxed, legs stretched out beneath the table and more-or-less tangled those owned by the man the universe knew as the Destroyer. Thankfully, he seemed anything but bothered by the closeness.

The card game wasn’t too unlike bridge, which the old ladies back home had taught you during slow days at the small cafe you used to work, but with a few new tricks and a new terminology. Even as buzzed as you admittingly were, it wasn’t that hard. Hence the grin on your face as you laid your last card down. “I win.” 

He frowned down at the cards before giving an aggrieved sigh and setting his down. “You have proven yourself to be a very formidable opponent,” he consented before giving you a skeptical look. “Were you being honest when you said you did not play this game back on your world?”

“I swear it,” you answered. After all, it wasn’t _exactly_ like bridge. “I probably just got lucky.”

“Hmm.” He reached for the plate in front of him, originally stacked with about half a dozen alien-cookies but now only remained one. High on the thrill of finally winning on something against these larger-than-life heroes along with the pleasant buzz of the alcohol, you impulsively reached across and snatch the last cookie from his hand. His eyes narrow in both surprise and maybe anger. 

“Winners receive prizes,” you recited as your excuse before biting into the cookie with a grin. The anger melted away on his face, though not the confusion. Some other emotion joined the perplexity in his strange-colored eyes, but you weren’t about to try to label it, not while your heart thumped a new tempo.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short, angst fluff scene that had to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly edited, but no real new content.

“Heya,” you knocked lightly against the door frame, offering a soft smile when Drax looked up from the holographic picture in his hands. All the others were giving him his privacy on what was clearly a somber day, and you had as well... for the most part at least. Except when the ‘evening’ meal had come and pass, and Drax still had no ventured outside his room your worried heart overcame logic and you decided just to pay a short visit. Dropping off a few sandwiches merely a ruse to hopefully placate him if he grew upset at the intrusion. 

The near-despondent look on his face eased somewhat into a slight smile, easing any anxieties you had. He placed the image of his family on the beside table and made a place by his side available. You took the invite silently, offering the plate before sitting and hoped the blush at being so closed wasn’t too prominent on your face. Having never seen his family before, the picture drew your attention as well as providing a nice distraction. The woman was beautiful, her skin a dark grey-green, black swirls across her cheeks blending in with her dark hair. Sitting on her lap was a girl, maybe six or seven in human years, her light green skin unblemished and a wide grin on her face. Her head lacked any hair, much like her father, but didn’t detract any from her appearance. 

“They’re beautiful,” you said after a moment, unsurprised that in those short moments he had devoured the two sandwiches. At least he wasn’t as messy as Rocket and Quill seemed to be. 

“They were,” he acknowledged, his voice just slightly hoarse which caused your heart to thump with sympathy. “My wife Hovat and my daughter Kamaria. They were as fierce and brave as they were lovely.” 

You only hesitated a moment before taking his hands in yours, threading your much more delicate fingers between his. “If...if you ever want to talk, I’m here to listen. But if you need to be alone, that’s okay too.”

There was a pause before his hand tightened around yours,“I think that in the future I will enjoy telling you about them. However, today this is enough. Thank you.” You hesitated only for a moment before leaning against him. Your heart hurt in sympathy, aching for this strange man you found yourself falling for. In truth, you were secretly convinced that no one could prevail over him, which made it even harder to realize that someone had, and in the process also ripped away everything he had held dear.

You pressed your face against the red lines on his arm, silently swearing to yourself that you’d be there for him. Even if your feelings were never returned.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A romance story doesn't just have two characters. You have to have people to push and pull strings.

The day was actually turning out pretty well. Rocket had wanted some part for his weapons collection, apparently only sold on Xandar, and Quill decided since you were already there to have the Milano service. And thus everyone had been more or less chased out of the ship for the day. 

It actually happened to be your first trip on a different planet that wasn’t in mortal peril. A chance to experience normal life. It was amazing, really. Different species that would have made you stare if you weren't used to the guys (and Gamora.) Some were pretty, while others were...not so much.

And the stores! It took every ounce of self control for you not to spend every unit on the first few stores you visited. Beautiful trinkets that were as amazing as they were gorgeous. Like a small musical box that played songs depending on your mood when you touched it. A slim line frame that displayed your memories as if they had been snapshots. Jewelry that would rival anything on earth, some that were far more than just a pretty thing to wear. 

But you had a set amount of money, reluctantly borrowed at that, and what you needed the most were clothes. Hence the rather nervous picking through the multitude of different styles, wondering what the chances were for finding something similar to your tastes from back home. 

Then again, this was a new life and it was making you become so much more than the simple girl you had been. Should maybe your wardrobe change as your life had changed? You picked out a dark, leather-like top that was reminiscent of something Gamora would wear and examined it carefully.

“Doesn’t suit you.” Think of the she-devil and she appeared. You jumped slightly and turned to see Gamora standing behind you, a bag draped on one bare green arm. “You’re...softer than that.”

You sighed as you placed the top back, silently agreeing before turning back to her. “Softer?” 

Gamora smiled and picked up a lighter colored top, this one with a small amount of lacework around the neck and sleeves. “Softer. Innocent.” She tilted her head slightly as she held the blouse towards you with a careful look in her eye. “Believe me when I say it’s something you should hold on to.” 

You weren’t too sure about that, but accepted the top anyways. “I want to be useful though,” you said as you returned to flipping through the rack. “It’s kinda hard when I’m so...me.”

“You are useful,” she argued, taking the other side. “All of us have very grim pasts. I can tell your own history has not exactly been idyllic either. But while we have more or less lost ourselves to the darkness, you still have that light in you. Peter has some of it to, and Groot. But yours is brighter.” 

“And how is that useful?” 

“Because its a reminder that everything isn’t life or death. That life is not about revenge, or having the most money. You remind us that there is something in everyday life to enjoy.”

There was a tickling of warmth in your cheeks as you accepted the compliment, as strange as it was. “Thanks...but I do think I should learn at least to defend myself. Something tells me I’ll be needing it.” 

That made her dark lips quirk into a smirk. “With Quill, Drax, and Rocket’s habit of causing trouble? That’s a guarantee. How much fighting skills do you have?”

“None,” you admitted shyly, focusing on the clothes without really seeing them. You had always meant to take some kind of self-defense class at the community center, but you never actually did so. It was always’ oh, I have too much to do this month,’ or, ‘eh, my budget is kinda tight right now.’ Who would have known that this would happen?

Not that the Taekwondo or anything would be very effective against energy beams and blades. Not the way Gamora and Drax wielded their respective weapons, at least. 

“Good,” Gamora’s answered surprised you. “It’s easier to teach when you don’t have to unteach,” she explained. “I had sisters through Thanos who lost their lives because they were not able to adjust quickly enough.” 

Silence settled as you assumed Gamora reflected on her past. How horrible it to be. You had gleaned bits and pieces of her history, of everyone's history, and could not imagine what it would be like. To be kidnapped and raised by space...pirates or whatever the Ravagers were. To be experimented and twisted into something completely different. To have your family slaughtered before you, and in Gamora’s case raised by their murderer. 

Your life had been a near fairytale compared to that. 

“Drax will be excited,” Gamora stated shortly after you left the clothing store with a few bags apiece. “He has been trying to find more ways to spend time with you.”

Your face felt hot as you feigned mild interest while in reality your heart started to beat quickly. “Oh?”

Gamora’s sly smile hinted that she didn’t believe your facade. “As I said. Your light is pleasant. Or, as our resident psychopath believes, very attractive.”

“Attractive?!” You squeaked. Peter may have been the classic handsome carefree rebel, but there was something about Drax, his mix of exotic looks, muscles, and the bizarre eloquence, literal mind, and insanity that admittedly did quite more than just interest you. And yeah, you had noticed Drax seemingly hanging around more than the others, but you had just written it off as just happenstance. And the fact you probably just noticed him more because of the small crush you harbored. 

The dark sly smile became even more mischievous. “Very.”


	4. Four

The cargo ship of the Milano had been rearranged. Crates and things were piled atop of one another and pressed against the walls, leaving a large enough space to be used as a sparring ring. The sword you borrowed from Gamora clashed against Drax’s own two blades as you both danced around the room. Drax lead the dance, his manic grin blazed across his face as he swung his blades with both precision and what could only be named mad glee. As much as you had improved since Gamora agreed that training would be a good idea, whenever Drax lost himself in the moment there was nothing to do but defend and pray for an almost painless defeat.

Block. Block, block, block again and then parry for a change and dodge the second blade that came swinging towards your face. Dance back a few feet and block yet again. You saw an opening at the last second, but must have paused too long. When you went to swipe with the dark blade, sparks scraped as his blade met yours and the force ripped the sword from you. The blade hadn’t even clattered to the ground before Drax had you pinned against the cool metal of a box. One blade to your throat and the other against the box as he used that hand to stabilize his weight as he leaned close. His breath ghosted over your lips, and you felt your heart change from fearful and thrilled to excited and...aroused. Especially as he leaned ever closer, his legs parting your knees and his hips pressed flush with yours.

A glup pressed the blade closer, but didn't draw any blood. Thanks mostly to his precise control. Strange that the man who went wild during battle with no apparent care for precision or restraint actually held a surgeon's level of care. Not once had you ever walked away with the faintest of bruises or the smallest of scratches, though often your muscles complained bitterly. Not that everyone else fared the same, often the opposite was true. Gamora’s subtle teases hinted at the reason, but you were too unsure to try and prove the theory as fact. 

This would probably so much better if you had felt attracted to Peter. After all, most were attracted to the rouge with his flirty quips and easy smiles. And that hair that had a siren call that even you answered as you ruffled the ginger locks...in a completely platonic manner. Because for some reason instead of being normal like the rest of the galaxy, you saw the 'legendary' Star Lord no more than a brother. A quirky older brother that was at times protective and other times a goof in need of saving.

"You have become quite skilled," Drax's deep voice broke you out of your thoughts. "Yet you still hesitate instead of striking."

“I know,” you mumbled, focusing on the red pattern etched along the grey-green skin of his cheek. In return, the blade settled at the delicate skin of your neck pressed miniscule closer. Still not enough to cut but it made your eyes jump to meet his. 

Right. The whole avoiding-eye-contact-is-a-sign of- weakness. Both Drax and Gamora liked to remind you of that every time you slipped. Drax more so than Gamora, mostly because Gamora was easier to adjust to. While you both came from separate worlds (literally and metaphorically) it was understandable that you clicked just for the main fact you were both girls in one of the most testosterone-poisoned atmosphere in the entire universe. 

And Drax’s eyes? Vibrant ice blue with a bloody crimson edge. As intriguing as the tattoos across his body, and you could easily catch yourself staring impolitely for...well, probably hours. Sure he was not quite fully understanding the metaphors and sayings, but the resounding intelligence hidden was quite paradoxical. 

When he wasn’t in his maniacal I’m-going-to-kill-everything mood. That was terrifying and yet reassuring because you knew you’d be safe. How many times had it been that blood, lasers, and bullet flew with the Destroyer’s laugh overcoming all of it, both attacking without sense and yet protecting you as you desperately just tried to stay alive? 

But right now, there was no trace of that maniacal look, but instead razor-sharp intellect and curiosity, paired with a few other subtle things better left unnamed. “If you know, then why do you not implement your knowledge?”

“It’s hard,” You tried to look away, and a subtle twitch had your eyes right back on his. He raised an bald eyebrow and you sighed carefully. “I think too much. It’s a habit I can’t break.”

“That I will agree on,” He smiled slightly. “You must trust your instincts. From what I have witnessed you have honed them enough to be a sufficient fighter if you allowed them to guide your movements.” 

You worried your lip as you thought over his words, but didn’t fail to catch how his eyes focused briefly on your lips. Your heart skipped a beat or two, and you desperately wished those instincts were right. Even though Gamora continued to hint that there was something, you still couldn’t believe it. After all, the guy had a family, and lost it, and was currently near-mad with a desperation for revenge. There was no way he was interested in romantics. 

Though, you had noticed that he was often found in whatever room you happened to be. And you couldn’t miss the times when your breath caught as his fingers brushed your arm, or shoulder, the times when his hand briefly rested against the curve of your back. 

But you reminded yourself you were probably just grasping at coincidences. After all, you were the weakest of the group, and it was evident that he cared strongly for everyone. He was probably just trying to offer support, to be reassuring in his own way. 

“Are we finished?” You winced internally at how weak your voice sounded. But being pinned by the object of your affections was starting to make things more than a trite uncomfortable, and a cold shower sounded extremely good right now.

Especially since your mind was running away and wondering if there was something in Drax’s tight pants, or if it was just an after effect of the training. Granted, you watched him spar with everyone else on the ship (No one yet had won, so you never felt to bad when he triumphed over you) and had yet seen such as reaction. And given his affinity for tight pants( not that you were complaining) it wouldn’t be too hard to miss. 

“I won.” the non sequitur made you pause for a moment, your mind snapping back to reality and to the devious look on his face giving you cause for concern. 

“Yeah…?”

“And winners receive prizes.” 

The saying was familiar, you had used a few times when winning the one thing you could on the ship-cards. “Er, okay. But I don’t really have….” 

His lips on your silenced you. Initially rough and demanding, the kiss softened as you relaxed and began to kiss back. You were only mildly aware of the knives clattering to the ground, more focused on the rough leathery texture of his lips and the strong grip on your hip and the hand tangled in your hair. You weren’t exactly sure who was claiming a prize here, but didn’t exactly care as you were finally able to touched the red raised lines that decorated his chest and broad shoulders. 

“I will claim you as a prize then,” his voice had a husky quality that made your whole body weaken and your mind take a few seconds to comprehend what he had said. Any reply was silenced when he pressed his rough lips and sharp teeth to your neck after pulling your hair back just a tad roughly. A strange mixture of tender, sensual kisses with occasional nips and full-out bites that were sure to leave bruises.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Left behind usually meant peace. Not this time....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such the long pause! You might notice that the previous chapters have been edited, and the first one has a bit more content. Thank you everyone for your comments and kudos! They mean so much! <3

"I am Groot!"

The small squeak brought you out of the thoughts that had wandered far from the reality of cleaning the small galley of the Milano, Quill's _‘Awesome Mix Volume 1_ ’ providing background music that had both you and Groot swaying slightly. A glance to the potted alien, who stood about a foot and half tall and just beginning to be able to stand on his own roots with some help. Instead of the light hearted expression you had come to expect of him, a shrewd look was settled in his dark eyes as he stared towards the darkened doorway.

There was suddenly a clatter, quiet and almost missable with the old pop music still playing rather loudly. Were the others back? But surely they wouldn't be so quiet and unannounced. Beside, it would take the team anywhere between half a day to two to capture the latest target, depending on which one you believed. Cocky Rocket: _“I bet you we catch that idiot before lunch!”._ Self assured Peter: _“Lunch? Two hours, top.”_ Snarky Gamora: _“With you two idiots bumbling after him? It’ll probably take all day.”_ Or pragmatic Drax: _“He will be caught when we catch him.”_ Either way, the tape hadn't finished even one side yet, so it hadn't been that long since they left. 

You dried your hands on a towel, and made a mental note to clean after you caught sight of the blood stain, before making your way towards the door only to have a thin vine whip out and wrap around your wrist. "I am Groot!" The squeak was a warning, evident by the look on his face.

Okay, not friendlies. Groot's vine withdrew and you reached for the oversized knife hidden in a drawer. Like every blade in the ship, it was sharpened to a razor fine edge because that seemed to be Drax's second-favorite pass time. Groot wobbly stepped out of the dirt and wrapped his arms around yours and allowed you to transfer him to your shoulder. 

It was dark in the rest of the ship, but the months spent in the small confines had allowed you to have the place near memorized. Groot pointed towards the hull of the ship, and you once again heard a racket, this time followed by a string of profanity not voiced by your fellow crew. 

"Quiet!" Someone else hissed.

"No one's here, dumb ass. There were the two males, the female, and that small beast that left. How could someone be so stupid as to leave their ship defenseless?" 

A peak around the corner showed three people standing around a fourth, who was attempting to untangle himself from the wires and other things Rocket had collected in his makeshift workshop. Two were bright blue hulking masses of fat and muscles, so tall that their heads rubbed against the ceiling of the hull. The leader was obviously female, bright pink with pronounced curves and dressed like a femme fatale in leather and dozens of knives. The fourth was nearly human looking, apart from the color-changing mohawk that added another half foot to an already six-foot stature.

Great. Thieves? Assassins? Or something else? You already knew that the Guardians had their fair share of enemies, but until now the conflicts you’d seen were usually when they either ran headfirst into or caused themselves. Never had there been an attempt at an ambush or subterfuge. You stepped once more out of sight, thoughts running frantically through your head. Did you run? Fight? Call for help? 

“Just set the explosives, okay? Who knows when they’re going to return.” 

You and Groot shared a look in the gloom. Groot held up his arms, suddenly appearing much thicker and more shield like. “I am Groot.” It was spoken with such solemness that your stomach twisted, the meaning quite clear. 

“Aw fuck,” you whispered harshly. A knife and a living tree no bigger than a cat. Oh yeah, this was going to go _perfectly._

\--------

“I am Groot.”

“I’m not taking a break until they’re out of here!” You argued back. Several hours, bruises, cuts, and heart attacks later, the Milano was in relatively good shape and Groot was back in his pot looking only a little worse for wear. Okay, missing an arm but he didn’t seem too concerned about that. 

“I am _Groot,”_ he shot back, more stressful this time. No, while he was missing an entire limb he seemed more concerned about your well being. And okay, you had probably lost a moderate amount of blood and good _lord_ did your head hurt. But something about having four dead bodies in the same ship as you really freaked you out. 

Or that may be the concussion talking. 

There was a distant rumble that drew closer, but you were focused on pulling Thug Two down the ramp by his remaining arm. He was one of the mountains of fat and muscle and had about a third blown apart by his own explosion. Premature detonation, or the idiot was even dumber than he had appeared. Either way, there was a bloodbath waiting to be cleaned that had a wonderful scent of burned fat and flesh added to it. 

“What. The. Hell!” You deposited Thug Two by Thug One and the headless wannabe-Gamora and looked up to see a hover car tossing up dust as it parked in the desert sand. Peter was already jumping out of the door, a befuddled look on his face. “What happened?!”

“Let’s park in the middle of no where,” you seethed as you stalked towards him. “That way no one knows we’re here and we’ll avoid trouble.” You jabbed a finger in his chest. “I really hate you right now.” 

“Join the rest of the galaxy,” Rocket looked mostly amused, a grin on his small muzzle as he looked out of the trunk of the craft, pulling his large weapons out. “I have to admit, I didn’t think you had an angry side.” 

“Well, four idiots trying to blow me up does tend to upset me,” you grouched. “Speaking of which, can someone go get Rainbow Head? He’s impaled to the wall in the galley.” 

“Rainbow Head?” Gamora’s remark went unanswered, mostly because your attention was captured when you felt someone lift the back of your shirt gently. It still stung as the fabric pulled away from whatever wound was back there. You hissed and turned sharply, a remark ready on your tongue until you saw the simmering expression on Drax’s face. 

“You are seriously injured,” he pointed out. 

“I guess I need more practice,” you said, wincing as his finger carefully pushed your hair back to look at the wound right above your left eye. Like all head wounds it had bled incessantly for what seemed like hours, and you were pretty sure that was the cause of the pounding headache and strange fuzzy feeling you had. “Groot got hit pretty bad too, but I would probably dead if not….” 

“Groot! What happened to…” Rocket swore as he caught sight of where Groot was waving his lone limb rather happily. “____, you are so dead!”

“I AM GROOT!” Groot argued back, his smile disappearing in favor of a scowl as Rocket raced towards him.

“Hell no! She was supposed to look after you! And now look at you!”

“I am Groot!”

“Obviously you can’t take care of yourself!” 

You whimpered softly and closed your eyes, the yelling only making your headache worse. “You are sure the one who harmed you are deceased?” Drax’s words were deceptively calm. Or maybe that was your scrambled brains trying to inflect something that wasn’t there. 

A peek at the alien before you assured no, it probably wasn’t your imagination. He looked pissed, ready to unleash that madness hiding within. It seemed a little strange, after all the other came back from solo-missions all the time looking a little worse for wear and he never showed much concern. Maybe it was because the Milano was the only home any of you had at the moment. 

“Yeah. One blew himself up, one’s nailed to the wall, the third had a gaping hole the size of Groot from a lucky shot, and their leader’s...decapitated.” That one really disgusted you, and honestly you didn’t think that should have happened when you went to slit her throat. Maybe her kind were just really frail. 

The expression on his face changed, and a bit of a smile appeared on his lips. “While I am disappointed I can not watch their life fade from their eyes, I am impressed that a weakling such as yourself was able to defeat four advisories by yourself.”

“Same here.” You muttered as you closed your eyes, unhurt by the term weakling. After all, one look at those who you lived with and it was easy to see you were the weakest. 

He surprised you as his hand cupped your cheek moments before a soft kiss was pressed to the wound on your head. “Then come, my dear one. We shall clean your wounds and then celebrate our victory with strong drinks and derision to our enemies.” 

You blamed the head wound for deciding to just go with the flow and leaning into his side as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and led you back to the Milano. Tomorrow, or maybe even tonight, you would panic and worry about killing and almost being killed. And that disgruntled look Rocket had in his eye every time he looked towards you while fussing over Groot. And the blood and guts that were going to more than likely left for you to clean, because goodness knows no one else on the ship seemed to want to clean anything that wasn’t strictly theirs.

But for right now, you were going to bask in the warmth that surrounded you, and the little glee of being called ‘dear one.’


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bar-brawl never hurt anything...right?

The place would have been cliche. Dark, smokey, lit with neon signs. Strange scents lingered everywhere, some pleasant, some not. Screens littered the place, showing foreign games or news, with only a few people paying them any attention. A lot of people were like you, minding their drinks and little else. From your vantage point at the corner of the bar, you could see almost the entire place, though your eyes were usually locked on the pool table (it wasn’t actually pool, but the name escaped you at the moment.) Drax and Rocket were easy to pick out of the crowd; Rocket due to his boisterous voice and the fact there weren’t any other furry beings standing on the table. Drax stood out partially because everyone seemed to give him a wide berth, and also because you seemed subtly tuned to know where he was. 

It was more than a little strange; you’ve had flings before, a few that were actually really serious, but none like this. The whole awkward-dating stage had been skipped, and your relationship had gone from finally confirming the attraction was mutual to being really comfortable with each other, with modest dashes of passion and flirts. Of course, it could be the confined spaces, but you liked to believe it was just they way the two of you meshed. 

A glance at the clock showed it was nearly midnight local time. Quill and Gamora said they’d be back by noon the next day. It was some disaster in the past that had been given for the reason they’d prefer Rocket and Drax to stay behind. Not that they argued, given a choice of a night out versus a dull meeting with Nova Prime. Quill actually wanted to stay behind, but Gamora was insistent on him attending, as for you...officially you had no reason to deal with the Xandar officials. 

Unofficially, you were babysitting.

“What’s a sweet thing like you doing in a place like this?”

For a moment, you didn't realize the line was aimed at you until a spidery hand rubbed your shoulder and a second caressed your arm. You instinctively withdrew and gave the person a startled look. With skin as white as milk, he offered a shark-like grin, predatory in more ways than one as he held up his four arms in a faux gesture. “Hey, sorry.”

You shook your head slightly before returning your eyes to the game, hoping he took the hint. Unfortunately he continued to linger at your side, “So?”

You glanced back at him for a second, and sighed and raised your glass of something sweet that went down really easy. “The same as everyone else.” Drax’s eyes met yours, and his frown remained even after you tried to smile reassuringly. 

“Well then, I can show you a good time.” The Creep put one arm around your shoulder and one on on your waist. Any thoughts about deciphering Drax’s expression fled as you turned sharply and dislodged his grip. 

“No, I don’t think you will.” 

“Aw’ come on. Four arms, twice the charm.”

You stared at him for a long moment in disbelief. Did you look drunk enough to fall for that? “Thank you, but no.” You stood and was half a step away when a chair went sailing past, slamming into Creeper. You jumped back, instantly on alert before realizing no, you weren’t in any danger...per se. 

The calm buzz of the dingy dive became electrified. The hair on the nape of your neck rising in response. The ambient noise died quickly, replaced with near silence.

“You picked the wrong girl!” Rocket’s howl of laughter overcame the sudden silence. A glance revealed the raccoon on his back, in near drunken hysterics. And Drax with a knife and murder in his eyes. 

Oh dear. 

………..  
The night ended actually fairly well, all things considering. Sure, you were stuck in a detox cell in the small-town jail, which back home would have been at least mortifying, but now a days was actually a fairly decent way to end a hectic day. 

Some days, you laughed at the things that used to stress you out back on Earth. Like being late to work, breaking a nail, if your clothes were fashionable enough, was that annoying fry cook working today. Now, stress was panicking when the other hadn’t returned after being gone for several days more than planned. Having gunfire and whatever else rain down, either in your vicinity or aimed right for you by the psychopath of the week. Being hands deep in one of your friend’s blood as you put pressure on a wound, praying for help. So having to spend a night in jail? 

Easy-cheesy.

Then again, you were hardly alone and there were no inmates threatening cruel and disgusting things. As soon as they saw Rocket snarl their way, and the Destroyer pressing a little too close, the jeers had died into silence. It was rather comforting to know that just their presence had everyone else fleeing into the shadows. A little overwhelming when it was your plea not to cause trouble that made them behave…for the most part, at least. And was also the reason Rocket hadn't gone through with his over the top plan to escape. After all, one night wouldn't kill anyone. Hopefully.

It did, however, hurt some idiot that hadn’t taken heed of the silent warning, hence a moderate sized cell had been reserved for you and your cohorts. It was comfortable, at least, with Rocket curled up against your leg, snoring far louder than you would think possible, while you in turn were more or less nestled against Drax’s chest, with his arm curled protectively and possessively around your waist. 

“As endearing as it is, you don’t need to try to hurt everyone that hits on me,” you broke the silence with a quiet whisper. You knew full well by the way Drax’s fingers were lazily stroking the stretch of flesh uncovered between your shirt and pants that you weren’t the only one awake. 

His movements paused, and you could feel his muscles tightening beneath you. “I was not aware that the were attempting to harm you. If I had known that, they would no longer be living.”

You twisted to look up at him, a calming hand placed on the designs etched into his chest. “That’s not what I meant. Sometimes on Earth hitting can mean flirting with someone.” 

The tension did not leave completely, but the anger melted some and was joined with confusion. “I had not realized physical violence was a means of expressing attraction between Terrans. Most cultures that is the opposite.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but giggle slightly. “It’s not. I meant...It’s a saying, Drax. We don’t actually hit, let alone hurt, the ones we love.” 

“Good,” he sighed as the rest of the tension melted from his body and he resumed the mindless movement of his fingertips. “I do not believe I could bring myself to harm you, dear one, no matter how much I care for you.” 

The admission made you blush, and you naturally tried to hide your flushed face against his chest. “As for your original question, I was not _trying_ to hurt them. I was inflicting pain on them quite successfully before being interrupted.”

A snort escaped you, and you couldn’t help but think less than a few months ago, that would have perturbed you more than not only amusing you, but leaving a warm contentment in your heart at the knowledge why his aggressive side had made a very stunning appearance. 

“Will you two idiots shut up?” Rocket snapped, lifting his head to cast death glares at both of you. “It’s bad enough we’re in here without you two awkwardly flirting.”


End file.
